


if you're the man, be the man, and deliver (or you won't be no man of mine)

by holy_smokes



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Aged-Up Number Five | The Boy, Anal Sex, Consensual Violence (Kind Of), Crack Treated Seriously, Dating, Dirty Talk, Fluff and Crack, Fluff and Smut, Gen, Light Bondage, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Oral Sex, Rimming, Rivalry, Rough Sex, Sibling Rivalry, Toxic Masculinity, Trials, fragile masculinity, i headcanon axel as ok but not gr8 at english, mobile phones exist, three idiots compete for another idiot's love, unexplained axel in the future whatever let's just roll with it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-29
Updated: 2020-10-04
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:08:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,650
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26704219
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/holy_smokes/pseuds/holy_smokes
Summary: It's the future. Axel, aged!up!Five and Diego set themselves a challenge - to win Klaus's mind, body and heart. Klaus is more than on board. Cue a series of weird, smutty and sweet trials in order to court Klaus and win his favour.
Relationships: Axel/Klaus Hargreeves, Diego Hargreeves/Klaus Hargreeves, Number Five | The Boy/Klaus Hargreeves
Comments: 24
Kudos: 99





	1. See You There, Horndogs

**Author's Note:**

> y'all, i... i can't even explain this crack. but i hope you find it funny, or fun, or cute, or hot, or whatever else you may find it. please send a kudos or comment my way if you enjoy.

There were far worse scenarios Klaus could be in right now, even if the current one is… a little unusual.

The future is shaping out to be not so shabby. In a strange and wonderful turn of events, a tall, blonde Swede with nowhere to call home accompanied them to the future. Five was blessed this time as he dropped through the cosmic blue with his siblings and God, or someone, took pity on him, giving him a 1989-baby body. Five was thirty and didn’t he know it; his knees were weaker than before and he had developed a preference for certain cheeses.

Five, Diego, Axel - a smorgasbord of tasty, satisfying options, if you asked Klaus -- which they did. They never stopped asking.

It became clear another fight was on their hands upon meeting their not-Dad and a Bowling for Soup version of Ben, but Klaus decided that wasn't his problem. Not for a while. He had scoffed, left, got a job and an apartment in one day - he knows he was hired as a part-time receptionist for his pretty face rather than his abilities with a phone, but that’s by the by. The thing is, the big blonde Swede moved in with him. He never asked Klaus, but Klaus never said no, so perhaps they both have communication issues.

Klaus told him he better pay his half of the rent, mind. 

Everyone’s bored, back in the future. Diego restless, curious if Lila will appear. Five's desperate to figure out the Sparrow situation. Axel - Klaus managed to scramble enough Swedish together to ask - has nothing to lose. 

Also? Five grew up hot. _Called it_ , Klaus had said.

And this new game? He learns of it a few months into being back in the 21st century. It's just after Axel grabs Klaus by the neck and kisses him like it’s the last kiss either of them will ever experience, coming out of absolutely nowhere. Klaus had just been asking if he was ok with toast for dinner again -- he didn’t expect to be ravished in the kitchen, cold sink touching the bare bit of skin where his little top has ridden up.

“What?!” Klaus shouts angrily at the interrupting, insistent doorbell. Goddamn you, God - just as the strong, gruff, handsome silent killer - who Klaus had assumed was _offensively_ heterosexual - decides he wants to fuck Klaus into next week, they have visitors.

Five must have got bored of being polite because soon enough, his two brothers zap in his and Axel's fifth floor apartment.

“Hey!”, Five yells, pissed as he looks at Axel pressed tightly against his brother, “play by the rules, Ikea.”

Axel puts Klaus down, but he doesn’t look happy about it.

“What rules?!” Klaus scoffs.

“You’re going to pick one of us,” Diego shrugs, “to wife you up.”

Klaus pauses before he speaks, which is rare.

"I pick Axel, duh,", an answer that makes the Swede puff his chest out proudly, “primary reasoning being, he isn’t my _brother?”_ ”

He looks at Five, because sure, he and Diego have _almost_ \- not quite - _nearly_ \- _some_ times - but Five? Five is smarter than this, surely.

Five rolls his eyes.

“Don’t act like you’re a beacon of morality, Klaus, not when you’ve been lusting over the idea of me in this body,” his sharper brother sneers.

“Excuse you! I can get a boyfriend if I want one. Why would I choose one of you two idiots, or this murder-happy Viking?”

Axel peers at him, like he knows he’s being spoken about but doesn’t quite know why.

“Well you were arching your back and slutting it up for him when we got here,” Diego spits back, “and this isn’t a one time thing, Klaus. You need a guy to take care of you and we - we need someone cute around."

“Oh, that’s my value, is it?” Klaus drawls, looking for a cigarette.

“You said it yourself, _sexy trash_ ,” Five smiles.

“I still pick Axel,” Klaus points, lighting his smoke, “because Five, you’re a virgin, and while I’m into a bit of degradation, you’d take it too far, and Diego? I can’t even begin with telling you how much I’d hate your neediness.”

 _“I’m not needy”, “I can tone it down,”_ his brothers say at the same time. Axel's got the jist of that conversation, stepping closer to Klaus and putting a conquering hand on his waist.

“Hey, hey, man, not that fuckin’ easily,” Diego warns him, “no, Klaus, you’re gonna let one of us win you.”

“ _Win_ me!” Klaus chortles, enjoying the way Axel’s hand seems to span his entire back but despite his protestations, Diego’s words settle somewhere in his belly. His ego's excitement at having three suitors fight for him must play out in his eyes as Five steps closer too, shark-smile on his face.

“You fucking love the idea of us battling it out for you,” he tells Klaus, before looking at Axel and switching to Swedish. Axel replies slowly, but Five doesn’t seem angry, so it must be ok.

“Fine,” Axel announces in English, “ _tre_.”

“Yes, three,” Five agrees, “three trials to prove who’s the most virile man. First, we physically fight. Secondly, we each have sex with you, see who fucks you the best. Thirdly, a date with each of us, to see who can woo you.”

Klaus laughs in disbelief.

“Gentlemen?” Five asks his competitors. Axel produces a knife from seemingly nowhere, slicing his palm, much to Klaus and Diego’s horror.

“Can’t we just shake on it without bleeding to death?” Diego grimaces, looking at Axel’s bloody promise.

“That was the original plan,” Five says, side-eyeing Axel like he’s insane. 

Axel shrugs, offering his non-bleeding palm instead.

“Maybe we should fist bump,” Diego ponders, “just ‘cause, I’d have to shake his hand, and he’d have to shake yours, and then me and you,...”

“It’s almost like, this is a really stupid idea?” Klaus interjects, not that anyone is listening to him, “plus I haven’t given my consent to any of this.”

“You object?” Five asks, looking bizarre as he holds his fist out, ready to make his pact. Klaus is silent, and with that, they bump fists, Axel hilariously confused by it.

“May the best man win,” Diego boasts, already sure of himself.

“Or the worst,” Five murmurs, “always been a sucker for the bad boys, haven’t you, Four?”

For some reason he translates for Axel, surely only helping the Swede, but then Five’s never been able to resist showing off his intellect. 

“Wait - what if they break the rules and fuck?” Diego asks Five, “Ikea was ready to bang Klaus over the sink.”

“Fine. I’ll play your dumb game,” Klaus says haughtily, which results in his brothers sharing a smirk together.

“Yeah, not known for your willpower, Klaus,” Five snickers. Lord knows what he says to Axel but it’s enough to make him leave Klaus’s side, presumably to stay with one of them until the ‘trials’ are over.

Axel says something in that deep voice which, now Klaus has been roughed up by the man, makes him have to work hard so he doesn’t visibly shudder in lust.

Five translates it as: “He says he’s a man of honour and will follow the rules.”

“Some honour,” Diego bitches, “tell Ikea he knew we were doing this but we nearly caught him with his dick in Klaus’s ass before it even began!”

“ _Excuse_ moi - ”

Swedish, and then Five: “He _says_ , he couldn’t help it, Klaus looks so beautiful today. But he promises to follow the rules. He’ll stay with me until this is complete.”

Klaus swoons, much to Five and Diego’s irritation.

“So - ”

Five zaps the unlikely trio away as soon as Klaus tries to question them further. He physically shakes himself off before giggling at the absurdity of his life, but, at least it isn't boring.

***

  
Klaus gets an elaborate invitation through the door the very next day.

_You are cordially invited to the first stage of the trial: the fight on Wednesday 7th October, 7.30pm. Arrive at West Street corner for 7pm. You will be collected and brought to the arena._

Klaus picks it up and plays with the card, written in fancy cursive. He's warm all over when he thinks of watching these three grown men physically fight for his hand. It’s medieval, childish, and bizarre, but since when has his life ever made sense? 

He decides to dress for the occasion. He keeps his black boots but finds a pleated gold skirt and cute white tee, little pink love hearts splattered across it, applying some soft eyeliner and lipgloss. As he checks himself out in the mirror he kind of wishes he still had his leather lace-up pants but he’ll just have to find something a little racier next time.

Luther meets him on West Street at 7, looking like the world’s weariest John.

“I have to walk you there,” he informs Klaus, “this whole thing is so weird.”

Klaus takes his arm, not that Luther offered it, but it’s chiller than he thought and One doesn’t seem to mind - if anything, Klaus would say he’s slightly blushing, enjoying the physical contact.

“Yeah,” Klaus agrees, “I don’t think they’re serious.”

Luther looks at him with wide eyes.

“They are, Klaus,” he shakes his head.

“How come you, uh, aren’t involved?”

“ _Youdnverpcke_ ,” Luther replies, quiet.

“What?”

“Uh…,” Luther sighs, giving in, “you’d never pick me. Who would? Here we go,” Luther smiles. Hardly arena, more smack-and rat-infested empty warehouse, but, whatever. Klaus is less interested in that. He turns to his brother, sad to see how openly insecure he is before patting Luther’s impossibly large arms.

“Hey,” Klaus smiles, curls blowing in the evening breeze, “I’m not gonna pick any of these three neanderthals. C’mon.”

Luther shrugs, but he smiles back.

“Not that I, um, would - with you,” Luther adds, huge hands held out as he indicates to Klaus’s crotch, “doesn’t do it for me. But, I don’t want the rejection.”

Klaus watches One's retreating back before he makes his way over to the entrance of the warehouse. It’s dusty inside, making him cough, but they have managed to locate a chair from somewhere that he assumes is for him. It’s out of the way, far from the mats they’ve put together to make some form of platform for when they inevitably end up on the floor. Klaus appreciates the way they look at him as he clip-clops in, but what he really appreciates is the fancy looking cocktail beside his chair.

“Ooh!” he claps.

“Alcohol free, of course,” Diego adds, proud of himself. 

Klaus sits and crosses his legs, sipping the pineapple and mango juice. Maybe he’s going to hell, maybe he’s just a little pervert, but the sight of his three contenders in boxing shorts and nothing else is a pretty nice view. Axel looks the strongest by far; he’s the tallest, meanest-looking, and he has some impressive scars on his body that Klaus could definitely get into. Diego, though, he looks good in his boxing gear and he knows it; just the right slice of pretty-boy but with broad shoulders and strong abs. Five; he’s the skinniest, definitely, but compared to Klaus he’s broad and his aura of feral arrogance is practically visible.

Klaus loses his straw, trying to find it again with his tongue, feeling three sets of eyes on him.

“Ok then, boys,” he shrugs, “what are we waiting for?”

The three men look at each other. They may be playing by gentlemen’s rules but they’re no gentlemen. Klaus doesn’t have a clue about fighting technique. Of course he trained as a child and a teen, in the Academy, but his heart was never in it. He disliked fighting for two reasons: one, he usually lost, unless a sibling felt sorry for him and let him win. Two, he hated the violence of it: the slam down of a body, the crack of a hand against skin. Whilst he’s been in his fair share of physical altercations since leaving home, all he really knows how to do is throw yourself on them like a monkey and bite, or play dead.

Diego gets the first punch in; slamming into Axel’s cheek, but Five zaps him behind his brother and kicks upwards, sending a whimpering Diego to his knees.

“We - _said_ \- no - _dicks_ !” Diego screams, in agony at both the pain and the sheer injustice of it all. Klaus winces in sympathy but Five doesn’t give a shit, naturally, rounding on Axel, a man who looks way too confident of victory. _Don’t underestimate him,_ Klaus thinks. Five might be on the smaller side but he’s vicious, smart and determined. He’s been an assassin for longer than the Swede and it shows as they fight, Five enjoying it as Axel begins to get breathless. Diego rolls to the side, annoyed as he looks up at Klaus.

“That little bastard,” he tells Klaus, “you know I can fight, Klaus.”

“Of course,” Klaus smiles, eyes flickering back to the fight, Axel having elbowed Five in the ribs, “you’re a great fighter, Diego.”

Diego glowers at Five.

“I hope Axel wins this one,” Two admits, “fucking _Five._ ”

Klaus frowns, unsure why Five isn’t zapping out. He’s getting a good beating here but he isn’t going down. Klaus assumes once you’re down you’re out, but both men stay on their feet. Axel’s sheer muscle is keeping him going - _is he made of actual brick, or steel?,_ Klaus wonders, feeling flush at the mere thought - but they’re both trained killers. Five’s youth is helping him with Axel panting more heavily as he lands yet another punch; Five’s head flies with the force of it, spitting blood before he levels up. Axel’s nose is bloody and even Klaus, the worst fighter present, can see the Swede is gearing up for one final, savage move to send Five on his ass.

That’s when Five zaps, at the perfect moment as Axel leans ever so slightly ready to throw his smaller, younger body to the ground - because as Axel leans, Five is able to push, a rough kick to the back. Axel flies forward before smacking the ground, Swedish curse words colouring the air.

“Ha!” Five claims victory, albeit sneakily, out of breath as he walks over to his brothers, “who’s the man now, huh?” he asks Klaus, licking bloody lips. That really should not do it for him, but it evidently does, Diego looking at Klaus in disappointment as Five soaks up his win obnoxiously.

Axel isn’t far behind, huffing and puffing. Klaus catches a little of his rant - _unfair, small, cheat_.

Five doesn’t care. He raises an eyebrow at Klaus, grinning.

“Next, fuck,” Axel says in English, attention already diverted to the second trial. Klaus’s face falls at that. He quite enjoyed watching the three of them - all captivating in their own way - gun for each other in a fight, but he’s not sure if he's prepared to be fucked by each of them in turn as the others leer from the sidelines.

“Ok, I think the joke has gone far enough, boys,” he sighs, going for weariness but landing on nervousness.

“It’s not a joke,” Diego tells him, pissed, as he gets to his feet, “we _are_ fighting for you, Klaus.”

Axel leans over and takes the juice from Klaus, throwing the little umbrella to the side before downing the remnants. 

“I’m not having sex with each of you as the other two watch,” Klaus informs them, incredulous, “it _isn’t_ happening.”

Axel speaks in Swedish, an energised Five translating: “He says you should be comfortable. We can all fuck you individually. The other two wait outside. It has to be fair - whoever fucks you the best wins the round.”

Klaus lets the idea settle. He’s infused with something and he isn’t sure what it is -- maybe it’s the possibility for something new; something fresh.

“If we do this, things will never be the same,” he tells them, mostly his brothers, “you know that?”

Five seems to be calming down from his sneaky high, wiping his mouth with his hand.

“Klaus, nothing we do will change the fact that we’ll always be in each other’s lives,” he says, “think about it. We were soldiers together. We were bought by some freakin’ creepy ass, never-aging guy we called Dad, for some reason. I’ve eaten _rat_ . I fucked a doll. We love you, and you love us. That won’t change. But let everything else change. Why not? This life we’ve had so far, has it been _good_?”

Klaus wishes he had more of his chair to cling onto as he lets Five’s words wash over him. He likes the hope he can hear in his brother’s voice.

“Exactly,” Five tells the room, “whatever happens, we aren’t going anywhere. However this ends up. Don’t you think you deserve someone?”

Klaus has to laugh at that. 

“No. Of course I don’t.”

Axel must be feeling left out, questioning Five in his native tongue, who paraphrases for him.

“Ikea says,” Five sighs, clearly not wanting to be honest but honour winning out, “he’s the best option if you don’t want to fuck a brother.”

Klaus gives Axel a small smile.

“ _Weeeeeeeeell…_ ,” Klaus bites his lip, giving into the crazy, “I am curious who will win round two.”

Diego waggles his eyebrows, arms crossed as he turns to the other two.

“Oh, I’m winning round two,” he says, confident, “I am, 100%, the best lover.”

Five laughs at whatever Axel says.

“Ikea says, masturbation doesn’t count as love making.”

“Yeah? Well, when’s the last time Ikea fucked? Doubt there was a lot of action in his weird ass little Swedish village. And _you’re_ a little virgin,” Diego adds, “apart from that super gross admission that you boned your doll.”

“Shut _up_ ,” Five says hotly, “only _I_ can call her that - she was - she wasn’t - ”

“Ok,” Klaus gets up, “as sweet as this is, I’d like a bath and some soup. I trust one of you will give me the sordid details of our next rendezvous.”

“You got it, kid,” Diego says, trying to wink and failing.

***

_  
You are cordially invited to get dicked down on Sunday 11th September at 2.00pm, Monday 12th September at 2.00pm and Tuesday 13th September at 2.00pm. Five’s house. Lube and condoms will be available._

Klaus laughs to himself as he reads the new note. At least they’re taking him seriously about not getting fucked by them all at the same time. He opens whatsapp and finds the group.

To: _Operation Wife Klaus_

Klaus: _2pm? Daylight? Least sexy time ever! Are you the first, Five?_

Diego: _I’m first_

Five: _Diego is first. It’s at mine as I have the best apartment._

Axel: _I go second._

Klaus feels the anticipation begin to build, twirling around his studio as he reads.

Klaus: _Any instructions for little old moi_ ?  
  


_typing…_

  
Diego: _Be prepared to have your world changed forever, baby_ ;)

Klaus makes fake puking sounds in his empty apartment.

Five: _No. This is our challenge. You just have to be there_.

Axel: _*flower emoji*_

Klaus: _Ok. See you there, horndogs! <3 ;P <3 X _o

***  
  
  


There’s a part of Klaus that loves to push, just to see what will happen. He loves wobbling on the edge of a cliff and sometimes he loves jumping off that edge with no idea if he’ll fly or die. As he arrives at Five’s plush apartment, sparkly gold leggings and obnoxiously colourful blouse making him impossible to miss, he thinks that he may be about to jump again.

Five greets him with a virgin mojito, ushering him inside. 

Diego jumps up, grabbing Klaus by the elbow in an attempt to bundle him into the bedroom immediately.

“Jesus, let a girl refresh herself first!” Klaus shoos him away, plonking himself down opposite a relaxed looking Axel, Diego shrugging in defeat.

“Don’t waste time, Klaus,” Diego warns, “I haven’t got all day.”

“You definitely have,” Five frowns, “you don't have a job, Diego.”

Axel speaks.

Five, “He says, you can’t rush good sex.”

“What would you know?” Diego snipes, “bet you I’ve fucked more than you.”

“Why must you think this? I am traveller. Many beautiful people,” Axel replies, “but - ” _Swedish -_ " ending his sentence with a shrug.

“He doesn’t feel the need to show off about it,” Five translates, “he has a point. You talk a big talk, Diego.”

“I’m objectively hotter,” Diego gestures at himself, “look at me.”

“Being hot doesn’t make someone great at sex,” Klaus butts in, enjoying their toxic machoism display, “buuut... it can definitely help.”

Diego wiggles his eyebrows.

Klaus offers his empty glass to Five who takes it under duress but he’s clearly attempting to be less bitchy ever since Klaus pointed it out. Diego claps his hands, leering grin plastered on his face before they disappear into Five’s bedroom, doors slammed shut.

“He’s changing the sheets after,” Five mutters in Swedish, “I’m not touching them.”

“Were they lovers before?” Axel asks, contemplating the idea.

“No. I don’t think they’ve ever crossed the line. There were moments, as kids, but… if they had, Diego would have boasted about it to me by now.”

“Game of chess?” Five suggests. Axel nods.

***

Diego strips off his jacket, boasting an impressive display of muscles as he stands in a tight white vest. 

“Baby,” he coos, “like what you see?”

Klaus lets himself touch, hands skimming those strong arms.

“Of course I do,” he admits, “always have.”

“Mm,” Diego replies, leaning in. They have kissed before - but this time, it’s not as awkward. Diego is gentle, for all his bluster. He kisses like a man who’s been told he’s a good kisser, both of them gaining confidence as they work a rhythm that suits.

“Hey,” Diego breaks the kiss, holding Klaus close, “you’re good with this, right?”

Klaus nods.

They kiss again, this time falling onto the bed. Five has splashed out on a gorgeously comfortable mattress, Klaus feeling the benefit as Diego presses him in. He seems to be in no rush, which suits Klaus just fine - making out is so underrated and yet he shivers with joyful anticipation as Diego loses his top.

“Go on then,” Diego sighs, pretending to hate it as Klaus bites his lip and uses his hand to scope out his admittedly incredible body. Hours of training, fighting, running have given his hottest brother a wonderful shape that turns Klaus - and far too many others - into basic bitches, drooling over abs.

“You know you’re my type,” Klaus murmurs, Diego leaning back in and making him giggle as he kisses his eyelids.

“You’re my type, too.”

“Am I?”

“In dudes, yeah.”

He makes Klaus lift his arms up, making a puke face at the blouse once it’s no longer on Klaus’s body and throwing it aside. 

“You have terrible taste in clothes, though.”

“You have terrible taste in haircuts.”

“You said you liked it.”

“Technically, I didn’t say I _liked_ it.”

“If only there was a way to shut you up,” Two grins, lying back and pointing at his crotch. Honestly, Klaus should not find that hot but sue him, he really does. He’s comfortable like this, knees apart and sitting across Diego’s lap as he unzips and shuffles around, finally getting Diego’s dick out.

“You’ve been wanting to get your hands on this for well over a decade,” Diego continues, propping himself up by his elbows, “this must be a dream come true.”

Klaus squeezes just a little too hard.

“Ow!”

“You’re ridiculous,” Klaus tells him, but he licks his lips involuntarily - he can’t help it, Diego’s cock looks delicious and it’s warm and feels so _good_ in his hands - “I have bigger dreams than sucking you off.”

“Yeah right,” Diego sighs dreamily, “this is peak for you.”

Klaus should bite him, see how much he likes that, but he knows he won’t. _Fucking Diego, and his perfect dick._ It’s actually not as big as Klaus hoped, but of course he would never tell Two that. Still, it’s nicely shaped and sized and as Klaus descends, beginning to suck and take him down his throat, he’s satisfied. Diego tastes good, pre-cum not as sour as most guys, and he smells clean and fresh which Klaus is always grateful for. The amount of dudes who think it’s acceptable to slap their musty cock and balls out, thinking Klaus ought to be grateful to get a jaw-ache and be assaulted by their gross stink, is unfathomable.

“Mmm,” Diego moans, appreciatively, “yeah, that’s fucking _it._ Knew you’d be good at this.”

Klaus gives a moan of thanks back, happy he can impress. Diego is pretty easy to take all the way down, letting the head of his cock hit his tonsils. Sometimes, Klaus will gag for effect. It’s not often he meets a dick that truly makes him gag, and he knows Diego’s dick won’t, so he adds in some noises to appease that gigantic, fragile ego.

“Fuck, are you gagging on it?” Diego asks, craning his neck and pulling Klaus’s hair slightly to watch his cock disappear, “shit, that’s hot.”

Klaus smiles to himself, jaw beginning to feel a little sore but he’s extremely well versed in this. 

“Kinda wanna come like this, but, we gotta fuck,” Diego admits, stroking Klaus’s hair now.

Klaus pulls off with a wet pop.

“We don’t have to do anal,” he shrugs, “it isn’t mandatory.”

“I’m gonna make you feel good, baby,” Diego insists, cheesy, but he’s the sort of guy it kind of works for, “don’t worry.”

Klaus giggles again, always amused by Two. He lets Diego free his legs, leggings on the floor, joined by underwear. Diego slaps his ass in an almost loving way before prying him open with his thumbs.

“Don’t you dare just stick your cock in,” Klaus warns, having sudden flashes of Diego being full of bullshit when it comes to fucking dudes, “I don’t get magically wet up there.”

Diego slaps his ass with more force this time.

“Less backchat,” Diego warns, which goes straight to Klaus’s cock, “and yes, I fuckin’ know I need lube.”

He keeps to his words, helping himself to a bottle of lube and rubbers Five has helpfully placed in the room. 

“I don’t need them right now, anyway,” Diego winks, before diving down and - _fuck -_ running his tongue across Klaus’s asshole. Klaus squeals embarrassingly loud.

“Nice,” Diego stops, playfully biting his ass, “keep making noises like that, I bet Ikea and the virgin are listening at the door,” he grins, before going back to his devilishly wet, deliberate, wonderfully wicked ways. Klaus had forgotten that there’s a tall, blonde almost-stranger and his newly hot, adult, yet baby brother somewhere outside, knowing he’s getting fucked in this room. He bundles the duvet in his fists and bites down on it, letting his whimpers and begging be caught in Five’s sheet as Diego eats his ass.

  
***  
  
  


Five holds his King mid-air, whipping his head around.

“Did you hear that?”

Axel peers at the board in front of them.

“Hm?”

“Was that Klaus? It sounded - pornographic.”

“They are fucking,” Axel shrugs, “if your brother is as good as he thinks he is, then yes, we will hear it.”

Five swallows the lump in his throat. He would never admit that he’s nervous - _a virgin fucking a former prostitute, honestly_ \- focusing back on the game.

He presses down his King.

“Checkmate.”  
  


***

  
  
Klaus humps at the sheets, too far gone to make sense. He babbles rubbish, cock straining, eyes leaky with the best kind of tears as Diego slurps away, hands stretching Klaus open when he manages to sneak his tongue inside, a finger joining him.

“ _Diiiiiiiiiegooooooo_ ,” Klaus cries, muffled by the duvet, “yesyesyesyes - ”

Diego pulls him back by his hair. The sound of his own voice shocks Klaus as it fills the room. He knows what Two wants, wants Klaus’s desperate pleas to be heard in the room over -- wants to show off to his competitors that he’s making Klaus his little dick drunk slut.

Another finger joins the first, squelching with wetness and the lube Diego added earlier. Klaus wishes he could stop himself, not wanting to feed Diego’s ego this badly, but he can’t. He moans long and loud, begging for more, and he knows Five and Axel will hear it.

“Fuck you,” he whispers, trying to regain some control of his body, “Diego, you asshole.”

He’s flipped onto his back, said asshole rolling a condom over his cock, shit-eating grin on his face.

“It’s ok, sweetheart, let yourself enjoy it,” he insists, cock sliding into Klaus’s ass easily but this time it’s Two’s turn to be mesmerised.

“Oh,” Diego gasps, bottoming out, “fuuuuck - Klaus - you’re so fucking _tight,_ I didn’t think - ”

“ - thought I’d be all fucked out and loose, did you?” Klaus moans, legs up and locking Diego in with his feet, “you all think your cocks are so fucking important and lifechanging - ”

Diego shoves in, making Klaus see stars, cutting him off and making him yelp in pleasure instead. He fucks like that for a few blissful seconds, Klaus’s mouth stretched in delight before he stops, as always, just making his point.

“You were saying?” Diego pants, “maybe, just maybe, shut the fuck up and let me make you come.”

Klaus can’t find words, whimpering as he encourages Diego by digging his heels into his lower back.

“What’s that?” Diego asks, stilling inside, holding a wriggly Klaus by the hips.

“Ugh!” Klaus cries out, annoyed, “fuck me! Fuck me, _please_ , please - ”

Finally, finally Two relents, cock reaching Klaus’s prostate as he enjoys the wet heat his cock is engulfed by. Klaus comes with a high-pitched squeal just as Diego hits it again, Two following him, tummy sticking with Klaus’s come as he leans in.

“Ugh,” Diego manages to say, “the downside of fucking dudes.”

“I wouldn’t know,” Klaus grins, “the cum always ends up inside me.”

They wipe up and dress, Diego’s thoughts interrupted before they leave the bedroom and join the other two. He places a hand on Klaus, looking at him so earnestly it makes Klaus want to shove him aside and run out.

“I’m glad I got to do you,” Diego says, as if it’s romantic, which it probably is to him, “whoever you pick, you gotta admit it, our sex was dope.”

“It really was, man,” Klaus smiles, too dreamy and high to sass him. 

Axel and Five barely look up when they exit the room. The two men are locked in an intense puzzle competition, Five manic with rage when Axel plucks the winning piece, slotting it in carefully.

“Good luck tomorrow, man,” Diego struts by, looking at Axel, “you’ve got a lot to live up to.”

Axel leans back before turning his attention to Klaus. There’s certainly something about the way the Swede looks at him Klaus thinks and it really doesn’t help his body is high on endorphins, keen for a cuddle.

“I’d be worried about this challenge if I were you, Five,” Diego continues, not satisfied until he’s fucked off everyone to extreme measures, “you really don’t stand a chance, bro.”

“It didn’t sound that great to me.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Diego shrugs, helping himself to water, “it felt great, and that’s the main thing. Look at him - he can barely stand.”

“ _He_ is right here,” Klaus manages to say but Two isn’t far off. He wants to lie down and enjoy this feeling, ideally with one of them next to him, but he’ll take a cat or a cushion. “I’m going home. Same time tomorrow! Toodleloo!”

  
***  
  
  


2.03pm, and Klaus is in his oldest-baby brother’s bedroom, this time with a man he’s accidentally living with methodically and slowly unbuttoning his blouse. Klaus is quiet, shivering when the Swede pushes the blouse from his shoulders and to the floor but he refuses to be left out; he helps Axel out of his black polo neck -- a ridiculous choice, if Klaus may say so. The heat hasn’t left New York, yet the older man still insists on dressing like a hipster funeral director. 

He’s up close and personal with those scars. Klaus would ask about them, but he knows his own scars tell some sad stories. Instead, he strokes them gently, looking at his second lover of the week.

“I want you,” Axel says, grabbing Klaus by the waist, as if they weren’t already impossibly close. Klaus loses his balance but it’s not important, not when Axel’s fingertips touch as he lifts Klaus up, keeping him on his tiptoes.

“Well, you got me,” Klaus jokes. He feels more naked than ever, despite his pants. Lust takes over when his older lover kisses him roughly, guiding them to the bed. It’s clearly Axel’s show as he manhandles Klaus onto his knees and elbows, tearing off the rest of their clothes. Klaus did a quick bit of prep before leaving -- something told him that this man, born of a different era and a different life; a savage, trained murderer, isn’t one for waiting. He’s pleasantly surprised when he hears Axel click the lid of the lube.

“You prepare?” he asks, gently opening Klaus up, who breathes through the new, wonderful intrusion.

“A little.”

“I know how to do it,” Axel mutters, annoyed, “much experience.”

Klaus has to laugh breathlessly. These _boys._

He’s listening to the rustle of the condom when he turns around for a sneak peek. Lord, if he wasn’t ready for it before - he is now. Axel’s hair is a little mussed up, his body perfected from years of training and fighting, and, oh, _fuck_ . Klaus clocks the dick he’s about to take, and -- that’s something _else_. It’s the perfect size; on the edge of too big, but just the right width. Axel makes Diego look like a little boy in comparison. 

“Can I blow you?” Klaus asks, wondering how desperate he looks and sounds, but to be honest he _is_ desperate. Meeting a cock like this doesn’t happen too often and one of his favourite activities to do when he does is savour it properly.

“Some time,” Axel replies, lining up and pushing in. He pauses to take Klaus’s hands, pushing them onto the metal bars of Five’s bed, before picking up Klaus’s hips and slamming into him. Klaus goes through a wild ride of emotions, his mind unable to keep up with his body as the older man slams into him, grunting from above as he fucks Klaus without mercy. If Klaus wanted to speak, it isn’t an option -- all his breath is spent on gasping for air whenever Axel pulls back before thrusting back inside. _Christ_ , he hasn’t been drilled like this for a while -- too many guys he keeps picking up are annoyingly soft. He appreciates everyone’s new appetite for enthusiastic consent, because that certainly didn’t exist in 2008, but he misses the way he used to be fucked. Axel is old school, that’s for sure, Klaus whimpering as he slams him against the bed frame. 

  
***

Diego whips his head to the door, hand reflexively going to harness, producing a knife.

“If that asshole is hurting him - ”

“Please, of course he isn’t,” Five eye rolls, attempting to focus on his latest read - _The Wreck of Western Culture_ \- “why don’t you go for a run, Diego, instead of pacing the floor and listening to our brother get fucked in the ass?”

Diego huffs.

“I don’t trust him.”

“You’re jealous,” Five shakes his head, “take a break, _bro_ .”  
  


  
***  
  
  


“Fuck me, yeah,” Klaus pants, “ _god,_ yes, that’s so - ”

Axel speeds up. Klaus will have bruised hips tomorrow, the mere thought making him cry out lustfully, especially with the way the Scandinavian slams into his sweet spot. Finally, Axel is making a little noise other than his soft grunts and panting, loud as he begins the final lap and coming with what Klaus could only label an animalistic yell, open mouth on Klaus’s neck before he reaches round. Klaus thrusts shallowly into Axel’s large hands, coming fast with a strangled giggle and moan, fully spent and fucked out. 

He’s pouring with sweat and as they untangle, he’s pleased to see Axel is too.

“Fuck, I feel like I’ve just done a brutal spin class,” Klaus sighs, “that was fantastic.”

“Mm,” Axel agrees, “good fuck.”

“ _Great_ fuck.”

Klaus enjoys the visual of the out of breath, slightly pink-cheeked, brick-like body man beside him. He glances down, still curious about getting up close and personal with Axel’s cock, which his new friend clocks.

“I need rest,” Axel informs him, amused, “not now.”

“I’m just looking,” Klaus says sultrily, turning to his side so he can easily run his hand across that broad chest, steel-like abs. He fits perfectly like this, Axel bringing him closer.

“I like you,” Axel tells him, chin on top of Klaus’s messy curls, hand raking through. He smells like something holy; like the inside of a church, or a winter bonfire. Klaus thinks he returns the compliment before exhaustion claims him, safe and cosy in the arms of a warrior.


	2. Divine. Heavenly. Disgusting.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Five gets his turn, someone wins Round Two, and Klaus goes on two dates.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is heavily smutty, jsyk. thank you for the feedback so far, really appreciate it!

Five has long brushed off the small feelings of inadequacy that were plaguing him before. In fact, he’s feeling quietly confident. Diego must have picked up on it, eyes close together as he scowls at Five as the three unlikely comrades clock-watch, waiting for Klaus's arrival.

“Control your emotions for once, Two.”

“I don’t have emotions,” Diego pouts, fury etched across his face.

“Send him in when gets here,” Five mutters, sick of the intense glaring and making his way to the bedroom. He undoes the first button of his shirt, listening keenly to Klaus’s chaotic arrival and chatter before his brother dramatically enters the bedroom, shutting the door and shimmering his way over.

“Last but not least,” Klaus jokes, dramatically shrugging off his fluffy yellow coat, “let’s do this.”

Klaus smiles as Five pats the bed that separates them. He clambers onto it, crawling over before sitting in front of a brother he’s never really matched up to; always a little too silly, too selfish, too loud for Five. Reaching for the smart, navy pants that Five’s sporting, nimble fingers unzipping -

“Ah ah ah,” Five sing-songs, grabbing his hand tightly, “wait.”

Klaus pouts, but he doesn’t react. Thankfully, each man vying for him likes to take the dominant role; Klaus is only too happy to submit.

“Take off your skirt.”

Klaus makes an _ooh_ -face, amused, before rolling it down his hips and kicking it off with his feet. He isn’t uncomfortable being naked, never has been, obeying when Five indicates to lose his top, too. He’d like to get a bit closer but when Five leans in to personally remove his underwear, his brother dodges Klaus’s attempt at a kiss.

“Aw, Five,” Klaus complains, “let me kiss you."

Five’s eyes are heavy and dark as they assess his brother's naked form, as divine as a Greek deity and just as greedy for all life's pleasures.

“I have some resources that I’d like to use on you,” Five informs him rather ominously. 

“Pray, tell?”

His brother leans down and rummages in a rucksack, producing two sets of rope and a blindfold.

“ _Ohhh_ , ok,” Klaus’s eyes light up, “yeah, go for it, you little freak.”

Five almost smiles, darting behind his brother and grabbing two skinny wrists together as he binds them tightly. Klaus ooh and ahh’s, more for effect than anything else but perhaps it works - behind him, Five presses his lips to Klaus’s temple.

“Ok?” Five checks, taking Klaus’s nod as agreement.

Kneeling at Klaus’s feet, he can’t help but take one leg and admire it, just for a moment. 

“Delores didn’t have legs, as you know,” he says wistfully, “a shame, as I do appreciate a nice pair like this.”

“Why, thank you, darling,” Klaus says breathily, pointing his toes like a ballerina. 

“You’d look good in some nylons,” Five continues, losing focus a little, hand tracing from calf to thigh, “I’d like to see you in some.”

“I’d wear a pair for you,” Klaus whispers. Damn Five and his creepy little Christian Grey vibes, looking all alpha despite being on his knees, feeling Klaus up. He seems to like Klaus’s reply before getting back to the task quite literally in hand, binding ankles together.

“Close your eyes,” Five instructs before rising to his feet and placing the blindfold on Klaus.

“I love sense deprivation, such a good idea,” Klaus chatters, “only with boyfriends, though. Not random assholes. It reminds me of Dad's little experiments on me, you know? Fucked up, right? But it’s so hot. I just need - "

Five clamps a hand over his mouth.

“I don’t want to gag you. But you need to stop talking.”

Klaus moans his agreement.

“I’m going to use some toys on you first,” Five informs him, “small to open you, large to fuck you, before you ride me.”

Klaus is hard, blood rushing to his cock as he sits like a pretty, trussed up turkey. As Five moves, he rolls over awkwardly, ass up and cock against his tummy. It takes self restraint to use toys instead of your own cock, but Five's always been able to look at the long term goal and sacrifice his immediate wants. He wonders what Five sees -- if his brother is eyeing him hungrily. Having his eyesight stolen and his ability to touch restricted makes everything else heightened; he listens as Five fiddles around behind him, mouth dry as he waits.

“ _Oh_!” he moans softly as Five prys him open, the smallest toy rubbing on his asshole, Five methodical as he begins to play with him. Once he’s been stretched enough to take it in, it’s nice, familiar; he almost feels relaxed, sighing contently as the toy loosens him up. It isn’t long before Five’s switching things up, beginning to edge in a much larger, insistent fake cock. 

“Ah ah _ah_ ,” Klaus gasps, involuntarily twitching away from Five’s too-fast motions.

“Shit, sorry,” his brother mumbles, slowing down. He thinks Five moves, getting lower and closer so he can watch the dildo slowly get sucked inside, and that thought resettles him.

“Yeah, that’s - that’s good,” Klaus babbles, “oh - ah - _Five,_ ” he moans. He’s always been turned on by the sound of his own voice, his own whimpers and groans during sex. Most of his lovers have enjoyed it, taking Klaus’s enthusiastic squealing and yelps as proof of their sexual prowess.

Perhaps Five is the same, a little more confident now as he fucks Klaus with the toy before stopping cruelly. Klaus feels the ropes on his ankles loosen until they’re free enough for him to kick the rope away, Five guiding him over his lap, hard cock at Klaus’s thigh.

“Untie me,” Klaus whines, still temporarily blind, “let me touch it.”

He can practically feel Five’s smug grin but his brother is annoying silent even though he _knows_ Klaus is relying on his hearing, listening to the opening of a condom wrapper.

“Here,” Five grunts, moving Klaus over, cock poking at his ass. Klaus doesn’t need eyes to find his way onto a dick - eyes aren’t the only way of seeing, after all, and Five’s hands are surprisingly capable. He’s a fan of the dildo, but there’s nothing like a real dick edging into your body - Five is no different. He isn’t convinced Five’s a straight up virgin but he would give anything to see his brother’s face right now - see if his eyes are blown, mouth lax and open as he feels the intensity of slotting himself inside another’s warm, tight body.

Klaus laughs a little as he sinks, proud of himself, proud of them - Five’s cock feels _perfect_. He’s careful not to ride it too fast -- _let the boy enjoy it,_ he thinks, _not spunk in less than three seconds flat_ but Five has other ideas, grabbing onto Klaus’s little hips and thrusting up. It’s almost like he’s trying to climb inside Klaus, hand slapping at skin, his back, Klaus letting himself get lost in the blank space as Five comes with a boyish, halted cry, arms wrapped around Klaus tightly.

Klaus does his best not to tighten around Five’s sensitive dick, letting him stay plastered against his chest. He soothes him instead; embracing the embrace. He hasn’t come but the part of him that thought Five would get him off by fucking his ass alone is the part that’s used to show offs like Diego, or experienced men like Axel.

“That’s it, that’s good,” Klaus coos instead, “you did good, Five.”

“Don’t baby me,” Five pants, softly pushing Klaus away and backwards, going for his cock. He’s too rough and it’s dry as hell, Klaus yelping and scrabbling around for lube.

“Ok, ok, I got it,” Five mutters, jerking him like it’s a chore, which isn’t exactly Klaus’s idea of mind-blowing sex but he can forgive the clumsiness. He was much, much worse at sex when he first discovered it. It may be perfunctory, but it does the job - Klaus shuddering with pleasure, coming into Five’s hand.

“Ew,” Five groans, moving, presumably to clean himself, “it's just so... uncouth."

Klaus hums happily, still blissfully blind and bound. He could stay like this, as long as he with the right guy on hand to take care of him.

As if reading his mind and wanting to irritate him, Five grabs the blindfold without grace, forcing Klaus to see again.

“Hey! I was enjoying that,” Klaus whines, squinting as he readjusts to light. Five’s ignoring him, untying his hands instead, playful slap to his belly.

“Get a move on, sunshine. You have to decide who won this round.”

They dress in silence. Klaus was half expecting some kind of lurid promise, Five desperate to win, but it seems they both know it’s unlikely. Five’s fists burn blue and yet, he stops, Klaus eyeing him with suspicion.

“Don’t try - ”

“I’m not,” Five eye rolls, “you were good, though.”

Klaus bats his eyes flirtatiously, “you got that right, big boy.”

And with that, he flashes away, leaving Klaus to clean himself up.

  
***

“You can open doors, you know,” Diego sneers as soon as Five flashes forward. Obviously, no conversation took place between the two more brutish men as Five teased Klaus in the next room. Diego’s built himself into a frenzy, knives spinning in his hands as he scours the apartment for something to stab. Axel, calmer, finishes writing before he stands, sheer presence commanding their attention.

“We must respect Klaus for his decision,” he says sagely, “no fights.”

Diego turns on him, ready for blood.

“Are you threatening me?”

“He is literally doing the opposite of threatening you,” Five explains, head throbbing from Diego’s commitment to being in a perpetual state of anger.

Speaking of, Klaus sneaks out the bedroom. He’s pretty post-sex, a little flushed but not obscenely so, looking like he has a secret that no one else knows which is rather accurate, Five supposes.

“So?”  
  


***

  
Klaus fakes innocence, perching on the arm of Five’s luxurious vintage sofa. Five, hands in pockets, stares him down, looking like that hot Maths tutor Klaus wishes he had as a teen; Diego holds a knife furiously, impatient as always, and Axel, with his strange impenetrable fortress aura, warrior stance - well, Klaus is a lucky boy to have such three tantalising options.

“Who won round two?” Diego demands.

“It’s hard to say,” Klaus sighs dramatically, locating his cigarettes only to have them stolen by Five - _“no smoking in here!”_ \- “maybe I need to sample you all one more time…"

“Just say it, you little slut,” Diego smirks, “c’mon.”

Klaus takes a deep breath, licking the corner of his mouth, “I kinda hate to say it, really, but… Diego.”

“Aha!” 

Two is as graceless as ever, high kicking the air, flipping his middle fingers at his two competitors. 

“Yeah, baby!” he dances, “you know it,” he points at Klaus, grabbing him for a big, show-off kiss before turning back to the other men, “suck my balls, _losers._ ”

Axel looks completely unphased by Diego’s childish celebrations, shrugging in acceptance. Five, whilst not confident of a win, struggles to swallow Diego’s boastfulness. Klaus watches with curiosity as Axel speaks, the language unfamiliar to him but not to his not-so-baby brother who glances at his Swedish companion with fury before relenting.

“Fine,” Five mutters.

Diego’s still thrusting to imaginary music when Klaus jumps off the armchair, making his way over to the two men who stand in silence.

"You were both good,” he promises, “and, y’know, Axel, I - ”

Axel silences him with a wave of the hand.

“It is - ” he pauses, speaks to Five, who translates: “he says it isn’t personal. He knows he,” Five grimaces a little, “made you come.”

“Oh, yeah,” Klaus nods, “but, uh, it wasn’t just the coming part? His cock is just _divine_ \- ” he glances at Axel, before pointing at his crotch, “very nice. _Bra_.”

“ _And_ you, darling Five. Quite the surprise,” Klaus winks, feeling more confident with Five for once in his life. 

He’s distracted by Diego, wrapping his arms around him as he no doubt grins at the other two.

“So,” Diego booms, “just the dates to go. Not long before you’re mine for good,” he tells Klaus, who elbows him slightly. He wants some say in this game, after all, he's the prize.

“I’ve decided,” Klaus declares, “I’ll date you first, Diego. Then Five. Then Axel.”

Diego takes the assertion as confirmation of his worthiness, proud of himself, whilst the others gives nothing away. Klaus waits for one of them to fight, to exert their dominance and re-make the decision for him but no one does.

“Excellent,” he smiles, “now, would one of you be a gentleman and see me out?”

Axel steps to him before he’s finished speaking, turning him away from his brothers with a large hand travelling to his lower back. Klaus blows kisses to the other two who begin muttering to each other, Axel leading Klaus down the stairs and offering him a hand as if he may struggle without it.

“How kind,” Klaus coos, “thank you, Mister.”

He doesn’t know why his personality of the moment is a Southern belle, but he’s enjoying the role play.

Axel unlocks the grand door of the apartment. He still wears the fingerless gloves he was accustomed to in his previous life and it shouldn't work but for him, it does. He’s a handsome man, perhaps unconventionally; the white helmet of hair and fearsome expression making him impossible to miss in a crowd. Taller and broader than Klaus, he’s not particularly big, but fiercely lean, sculpted and strong with scars littered across his chest and back - scars Klaus would love an opportunity to get to know a little better, if given the chance.

His breath is caught in his throat when the other man holds the side of his face gently, palm warm against Klaus’s cheek.

“Beautiful,” Axel tells him, the word slow and long on his tongue like he’s only just learnt it.

Klaus isn’t sure if it’s the warmth of his hand or the foreign feeling of embarrassment but he knows his cheeks are deepening in colour. Before he can dive deep into throwing himself at Axel, the hand is gone, door wide open and the hustle of the city audible.

“Goodbye,” Axel blurts, adopting the manner of an irritated butler, slamming the door shut and leaving Klaus floaty and flirty as he totters down the steps into the rest of his afternoon.  
  


***

_Operation Wife Klaus_

Klaus, 19:43: _I’m going to miss this game, boys._

He presses send, curled up with his cocoa as he waits for them to reply. It’s a Friday evening - he’s bored and needs attention. With Axel gone, there’s no one to glare at him while he tries to learn a new song to sing, no one to give feedback on his latest knitting project. 

A flurry of typing begins.

Diego, 19:44: _You’ll be happy enough when you’ve got a boyfriend to look after you._

Klaus scoffs out loud at the constant offensive toxic masculinity his brother is so wrapped up in, snuggling into his blanket.

Five, 19:44: _Naturally. You love the attention._

Klaus, 19:44: _wasn’t MY idea tho ;) was yours. Because you all want me. And think i’m pretty. <3 _

Axel, 19:45: _*dolphin emoji*_

Diego, 19:45: _Dude. Enough with the weird emojis. Just use Google Translate._

Klaus, 19:45: _i <3 them axel *kiss emoji* _

Five, 19:45: _Or, you could learn Swedish, Diego, you ignorant American asshole._

Diego, 19:45: _I’m Mexican, bitch. Check your privilege, gringo._

Axel, 19:46: _I am hundred years old. Magic hand-computer strange._

Klaus, 19:46: _*eggplant emoji*_

Five, 19:46: _You said learning Spanish was, and I quote, “for bitches.”_

Diego, 19:46: _I was 12 years old bro_

Axel, 19:47: _*ghost emoji*_

Diego, 19:47: _Klaus, you little thot. Send us a dirty pic *smiley devil emoji*_

Axel, 19:47: _What is thot?_

Klaus, 19:48: _Too much effort. Going to watch Bambi and fall asleep in a face mask. Night night my boys <3 <3 <3 _

Five, 19:49: _Drink some water before bed, Klaus._

Diego, 19:49: _Just one pic baby. Cmon._

Axel, 19:50: _*Swedish flag emoji*_

***  
  


  
Klaus hasn’t dated much. He tried dating as a teenager, which was impossible, under Reginald’s rules. After escaping, he was more into fucking than dating. He was super alert regarding his body, one of the first to begin jerking off and exploring himself sexually and once he broke free of Daddy’s metaphorical chains he wanted his fill. Thankfully, he was never in short supply: blessed with good looks and a natural charisma that could be bent depending on how the object of his affections wanted him to be, he spent many years pursuing and being pursued.

Actual relationships, though? They were a mystery. James, a proud Brooklyn born, Italian-American, took him in for three weeks but it was a brief entanglement of convenience as opposed to passion or love. Dave, he was -- well, he was different. Klaus isn’t sure if he’d say they dated. Dave called dibs on him the second he landed ass-first, confused and terrified and they fell in love the second they kissed. Klaus thinks he fell in love seconds before, just as they fed each other shots. He wasn’t blackout drunk at that point, just tipsy enough to be honest, to almost forget that they were lost in that terrifying war. He fell in love when Dave’s fingertips brushed against his mouth, when his eyes were hungry and looking at Klaus with heavy, desperate promises. He loved Dave, but he didn’t date him.

He should have known Two would be in the same boat, if for different reasons as Diego turns up in sweat pants, a box of alcohol free beer and bag of tacos under his arm.

“Oh,” Klaus mutters, unable to hide his disappointment that clearly this is an indoors date, “hi.”

“Hey,” Diego smirks back, ushering his way in so he can drop the beers and food on the counter top, “Netflix and chill, babe?”

Klaus screws his face up at the nickname. He feels pretty; soft pink jumper and new favourite pants on -- a pair of tight, white jeans that perfectly cup his ass. He’s been going for slightly more low-key look recently, in the sense that it’s still very much him, but a little more _comfortable_ than he’s used to. He thought Diego might be up for an ironic tourist bus tour, or Greenpoint, where Klaus could persuade him into buying them caramel-filled doughnuts.

“What could be better,” Diego begins, stuffing the fake beer into the fridge, “than ice-cold beer, proper tacos, and cuddles on the sofa, huh?”

Klaus is relenting, he can feel it. Diego looks good in the grey tracksuit bottoms, tight white vest exposed now he’s thrown his jacket to one side. He knows Klaus is weak for touch, would forgive most things if afterwards he gets a cuddle and a kiss, and he’s playing him for it -- Klaus almost respects it.

“It does sound nice,” he gives in, Diego nodding smugly.

“Course it does. Go get comfy. I’ll bring you your food.”

Klaus shifts from disappointment in the laziness to content, pleasant comfort, snuggled into Diego’s chest as he takes Two’s leftovers and chomps on them happily. They’re a few no-beers in and one film down, Diego’s hand making its way lower every twenty minutes or so until he’s snapping at the waistband of the new jeans.

“Fancy some lovin’?” he asks, stroking the softest part of Klaus’s tummy.

“No, cheeky,” Klaus bats his hand away, “you don’t get seconds.”

“You’re having seconds,” Diego points out, “in fact, that’s like, your third or fourth helping.”

“I’m a growing boy,” Klaus retorts, “leave off.”

“Suit yourself,” Two decides, “you’re the one missing out on a full body orgasm.”

“Ok, you didn’t give me a _full body_ orgasm,” Klaus rolls his eyes, “although it was - well - it was very, very good.”

He doesn’t need to look at Two to know he’s smug as shit right now. Still, Diego doesn’t push. Klaus, despite himself, feels a slither of sadness that he doesn’t; if Two continued to gently insist, he knows they’d end up in bed, slippy and sated. Instead, they end up napping, sated in a different way. Once they’ve come back to the afternoon, sleepy and cosy, he knows as Diego leaves that they’re both aware this was a lacklustre effort. Trust Two to rely on one decent win to pull him through - or perhaps it’s the history there, the lifetime of _nearly_ s and we _could_ s being within reach.

Klaus lets Diego kiss him at the door before he goes, those sinfully skilled lips leaving him panting and flushed.

“You know that I - I care about you,” Diego says, their foreheads pressed together, “always have,” he smiles, holding Klaus’s slightly smaller hands. 

“Same,” Klaus whispers, not sure why he feels nervous to speak any louder.

Sinking back onto the sofa, he already misses Diego’s clean cotton scent.

***

Klaus feels certain he won’t doll himself up only for Five to turn up in sweatpants and sunglasses. Five has dined in some of the world’s best - and worst - restaurants. He’s a man who enjoys burlesque, full-bodied red wine and salty seafood. He likes boutiques, clothes without price tags, leather shoes with small heels that demand you’re aware of his arrival. Five carries a comb in the inner-pocket of his tailored jacket. He’s slick, sharp and impressive. Klaus knows they’ll be going somewhere beautiful and he dresses accordingly, hoping his slide to the feminine tonight will be welcomed. He suspects so, after all, his brother made a fuss of wanting to see his legs in nylons -- a little pleasure Klaus is happy to indulge him in. He finds the idea of Five’s eyes and eager hands attractive, admiring himself in the mirror before adding a spaghetti-strap dress and cute, faux-fur jacket to the mix. He picks his boots despite the fancier look but gives them a quick polish, satisfied with the final result.

As Five pulls up in a car Klaus really does _not_ know how he affords, he admires what he sees stepping out of the small apartment block, hawk-eyed as he watches Klaus dance down the steps to meet him.

“Klaus,” Five smiles, walking round to open the passenger door, “you made an effort for me.”

“I did,” Klaus smiles, “I thought _you’d_ make an effort for _me_ , so, it's only polite,” he bats his eyelids comically. Five holds off on a smile, a fan of making people earn them, before slamming the door shut.

And Five did make an effort. New suit, hair coiffed and shiny, face freshly-shaved and soft looking.

“Seafood?”

“You’re giving _moi_ the chance to choose?”

“Good point,” Five mutters, starting the engine, “you’ll take us to Burger King. I know just the place.”

Turns out the place is a hotel, one that Klaus has frequented in a past life, taking the escalator with a bag full of ropes, dildos and costumes. He tells Five that in a hushed tone as they take said escalator but this time, it’s for fancy French food. He ought to settle down, a little too excited at the prospect of being wined and dined as if he’s in his own _Pretty Woman_ but it’s hard to not get swept up in the thrill of it all as they’re seated, the view of Manhattan gorgeous, gigantic windows allowing them to watch from up high.

“Not bad, hm?” Five asks. He isn’t arrogant like this, not in the way Diego would be. He’s comfortable with no need to show off whereas Two drips in insecurity, attempting to make up for it with his loud, brash mouth.

“It’s gorgeous,” Klaus agrees, “I don’t understand the menu, though, darling. Can you choose for me?”

Five gestures for him to pull up his dress, show a little more leg. Klaus hitches it slightly, exposing more of his thigh, legs crossed and tight as he enjoys being a pretty object of affection.

“Sir?” 

A blonde waiter looks at Five expectantly. Klaus opens and closes his mouth, about to cause a scene and ask why he wasn’t addressed, but Five is quick to ensure he doesn’t get the chance.

“Dry martini and one ice-cold water. To eat, homard et quenelles de volaille truffées en sauté gourmand. Poulet ‘Jaune des Landes’, champignons sauvages, blettes. _Merci._ ”

“Yum,” Klaus teases, folding his dress even further up so most of the material bunches at his crotch. Neither of them miss the waiter’s eyes or how the young man swallows, temporarily stunned by the sight of the lacy fabric on show where the nylons sit atop Klaus’s legs.

“Uh - gr-great choice, Sir,” he manages to say, popping out of his trance, “I’ll be right back.”

Five licks his lips, shaking his head at Klaus.

“What?”

“You have exquisite legs,” Five shrugs, “and you’re a real little tease, Four.”

“ _Four,_ is it?” Klaus grins back, “and I’m not a tease. I always put out.”

“I’m well aware.”

The evening draws in, sun beginning to set over New York, soft orange and hopeful as the night takes the day’s place. Five nurses his martini before switching to water too, slow and deliberate with his lobster, taking the time to feed Klaus bites. Klaus’s senses are alive with him, on the edge of being overwhelmed. He’s hyper-aware of the silk on his thigh, the smell of their dishes and even the gentle cold from the ice in his drink. Five sure knows how to make the most of everything, edging closer to Klaus through-out their evening so he can easily insist on his date taking a bite of whatever Five is instructing him to eat, fork held like a weapon.

It’s enticing, tantalising, both sweet and sour. Klaus can hardly get a boner, not in this dress -- he doubts Five would see the funny side if they’re thrown out for sexual indecency. 

“God, that was - ”

“As good as sex. Good food should be.”

Klaus has to stop Five from rubbing circles on his thigh, afraid his cock will start to stiffen.

“I never thought of it that way,” he admits, “but I get it now.”

“That’s because since you were twelve, you’ve lived on a diet of marshmallows, one dollar fries and cocaine.”

Klaus can’t exactly deny it.

“But with me,” Five stops, as if deciding whether he can be honest, “you’ll be treated well. I want you in clothes like this, eating food like this, Klaus. I want to spoil you.”

He’s been accused of being spoilt before and at the beginning, it might have been a fair assumption. He grew up in financial wealth, even if he was starving and impoverished when it came to love. It took a while to figure out what it’s like to live without the safety of money and it may have hit him hard as a young 21 year old, but he acclimatized. There was simply no other option. Barbara and her Dallas mansion let him travel back in time, ironically enough, to being that rich, spoilt, flamboyant teen. 

“You don’t think I’m lazy?”

“Yes, I do,” Five says, but not unkindly, “but that suits me. I’d like to come home knowing you’re there. Knowing you’re well rested. Safe.”

Klaus reaches for him, emboldened as Five allows him to stroke his jaw.

“You’re a nice boy,” he says, “underneath all that self-importance.”

Five raises an eyebrow, 

“You’re a nice boy, too,” he flirts back, dangerous looking in the way that makes Klaus’s knees weak. It’s dark, the lighting in the restaurant barely there and gentle and he’s hit with a thought that if Five wanted to, he could probably play under his dress without drawing too much attention. It’s seems his brother has a similar idea, fucking Klaus with his eyes when they’re rudely interrupted by the cheque.

“Have a great evening, Sir.”

“I will too, thanks, sweetie,” Klaus can’t resist half-yelling, the waiter burning up pink as he scuttles off.

“Ssh,” Five says, but not as angry as usual, “you’ll draw attention to yourself.”

“And that’s a problem?”

Five leaves an obscene wad of cash on the little silver platter, offering Klaus a hand.

“It is when I want to take you to the bathroom and fuck you, yeah,” he grins, Klaus following his lead. The restroom is nicer than Klaus's apartment, Five bundling them into a cubicle before locking it, shrugging off his blazer and laying it down neatly.

"Wow, so thoughtful," Klaus jokes, sliding to his knees. Five looks so good in the dimmed light, jaw set and hair slightly floppy, eager as he gets his cock out, Klaus matching his keenness by helping him get hard, hand moving quickly. He never saw Five's cock, and again, the size queen that he is, he can't help but think of Axel -- truly an unreal dick, long and thick, but Five's is gorgeously satisfying. He envelopes him with his mouth, tongue cold from all the ice, making his little assassin whimper comically. Klaus laughs around the cock, sinking down and taking him to the back, pulling himself up and getting to work. _Fuck yes_ , Klaus _loves_ sucking cock - getting on his knees and devouring a dick is his only true hobby. He slurps off the head, making eye contact and he must look a sight because Five jerks unwillingly, pre-cum leaking as he tries to retain some semblance of control over himself. Klaus switches it up; taking Five in hand and moving with ease now his cock is soaked wet, pulling down boxers so he has better access to mouth at Five's balls.

"Klaus -" - he never learns what Five wants to say, sounding choked out as he shakes against the cubicle door, sensation of a tight, wet fist around his cock and little soft tongue on his balls too much, " _Klaus_ , I'm - I'm - "

"Come on my face," Klaus whispers, a siren on his knees, leaning back and letting a red-faced Five fist himself, face contorting as he cums with a cry, spunk hitting Klaus's cheek.

"Shit," Five groans, slumping back, "you are just disgusting. Divine. Heavenly. Disgusting."

Klaus scoops up some spunk, tasting it before wiping himself down.

"That could be the name of my autobiography," he muses, "divine and disgusting."

Five laughs, a rare sound.

"Wow," he sighs, looking soft and young in his post-orgasm glow, Klaus happy on his knees and looking up, "well. I'd call tonight a success. Let's get you home."

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> .... sorry for the dumb ending, this is by no means a work of art, it's a work of fun, lmao. anyway, axel's date and then some decision making for klausy?!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [Not finished]

I'm really sorry to those of you who have kindly commented on this fic, but I can't finish it. I wanted to guilt myself into doing so, forcing myself to have to finish it by posting the stuff I've written but trying to write anything past the end of Chapter Two.. it's not working. I usually don't think so much when I write, it's a very natural and quick process and comes very easily so having to stop and start after every other sentence.. it's getting to the point I'm getting frustrated and annoyed. I'm really pissed that posting the first two bits didn't motivate me enough into finishing it. I didn't want to leave this on end for weeks -- while no one else would really care, _really_ , I would, and I would get more and more annoyed and worked up about not writing/posting but it's evidently not enough to motivate me, just ends up making me feel like shit. It makes me anxious that it's been five days since I updated this but honestly, every time I come to write it, it's a chore and feels sludgy and boring. Lesson here is: don't force something! But I'm glad a few of you liked it and enjoyed the general story. I'm sorry that I couldn't force myself to push through. It's not like I want or expect myself to write something beautiful, poetic and a masterpiece, it's just that I can't write at _all_. I really wanted to finish this story - I'm sorry.

I'll post what I did manage to churn out of Klaxel's date but it stops quite abruptly and there's no decision making. My initial idea was Klaus would pick Axel, because that's my OTP of the moment, but I was contemplating the idea of a poly/shared type of situation after reading your comments about Five. He definitely had a great date with Five! 

I might end up deleting this fic because I literally hate the idea of being one of those authors who leave a fic unfinished, it's an insult to my ego lol. But I haven't decided yet, maybe I need to learn to let my failures stay on show rather than hide them and cover them up. #EmoHours

Thanks for trying to help me, anyway, I appreciate it if you've read and commented.

***

Axel is early, buzzer sounding off just as Klaus is clicking his fingers, trying to will a decision about what to wear. He’s decided to push the boundaries with this one. Axel was born in 1883, but _ if you wanna be my lover, gotta get with my having-a-dick-and-wearing-skirts, _ or whatever it is Posh Spice said. Cute pleated skirt, knee highs because it makes him nostalgic, and - glittery crop top? It’s offensively silly and garish as hell, but then, isn’t he?

The buzzer goes again.

“Yes, yes!” he yells at no one, “give me 2 minutes!” he yells into the intercom, grabbing his phone, keys, and throwing on boots. 

Opening the door to an unamused Axel, he has to enjoy their obvious differences. The Swede has discovered a love of turtlenecks. Klaus doesn’t hate it. It clings to his body nicely, as do his black pants, hair forever sleek and neat, a large backpack resting heavy on his back.

He offers Klaus his arm.

“ _Danke!_ What’s in the bag, handsome? No guns, I hope?”

Axel places his hand over the one Klaus has in the crook of his arm, as if guiding an old lady.

“No guns,” he confirms, “ _ mat _ . Picnic.”

Klaus hums his approval. He isn’t sure if he’s ever had a picnic before, envisioning such an act as incredibly European, frivolous. Daddy was hardly the pack-cucumber-sandwiches-take-the-kids-to-the-park type and he’s never had a lover who’s wanted to spend much time with him unless they’re between the sheets.

Axel marches them towards a specific spot as if he had scoured this spot of the park beforehand. A Williamsburg type with a beard that put Klaus’s 1960s beard to shame blinks up at the incoming fierce blonde and his shiny, curly friend.

“Hey, my man,” he grins, stupidly stoned, “how’s it goin’?”

Axel points at him, before pointing right. If his finger actions aren’t clear, his face is, but Williamsburg just smiles and shrugs. 

“Let’s just go - ”

Axel kneels in closely, the stoner’s eyes wide as he takes in the pink scar and what Klaus is sure is a look of righteous anger.

“Move.”

“Ok, ok, dude,” Williamsburg mutters, scrambling to his feet, “hey, uh, any chance of a sandwich?”

Axel, unravelling a blanket, stops.

“No.”

“No problem, dude,” stoner boy grins, waving at Klaus who waves happily back.

“Sit.”

Klaus obeys, fighting laughter. Axel is a new adventure -- he already knows his brothers’ quirks and habits, both good and bad, but he’s still figuring out his new friend’s deal. They may live together but Axel disappears for most of the day, arriving at the apartment at dusk with blackened hands and annoyance across his features. 

As Axel rummages through his rucksack, Klaus finds the right angle for his back against the oak tree, leaves helpfully blocking out the sun’s harsh rays.

“What you looking for, Mary Poppins?”

Axel frowns, eyeing him suspiciously.

“My name is Axel. Did you forget?”

“No, it’s - ”

He would have finished his sentence but Axel takes the liberty of shoving some pastry in his mouth, Klaus moaning in surprise and indignation until his taste buds kick in, moan drawn out with pleasure.

“ _ Kanelbulle, _ ” Axel explains, the cinnamon bun sticky and delicious as Klaus savours it. As Axel leans back, Klaus is forced to move onto his chest, one of Axel’s steel arms locking him in, hand resting on his waist.

“Here,” Axel recaptures his attention, feeding Klaus more of the bun. It isn’t lost on Klaus that he has literally been hand fed by two of his dates, enjoying both experiences for different reasons: Five’s sugar daddy vibe and Axel’s salt of the earth, hunter gatherer energy. Axel doesn’t look at him the way Five did, though. Five was losing composure, getting more turned on, whereas Axel - he looks satisfied, like feeding Klaus is a personal accomplishment for him.

“You very little,” Axel tells him from above.

“Good things come in small packages!” Klaus retorts, chomping on his sweet pastry, the dirty undertones perhaps lost in translation, “and I eat  _ plenty _ .”

“Yes,” Axel grunts, “you eat with me. I feed you. Like cat.”

“Sure,” Klaus smiles to himself -- he doesn’t hate the idea of being Axel’s beloved little pet.

The sun warm at his ankles, joggers speeding past and Axel’s firm body to rest upon - this is what it must feel like to be slightly stoned without any weed, he supposes, relaxing into the day and only moving his lips whenever Axel presses an item of food to his mouth. It helps that the Swede has taken to running his fingers through Klaus’s hair, keeping a possessive hand on his waist.

“I have gift,” Axel announces, back to his bag before producing a rose gold band, sleek and simple. He takes a wrist and slips it on Klaus easily, Klaus raising his arm to admire the dainty jewellery, touched by the thoughtfulness. He recognises, from his boring history lessons, that there’s runes adorning it, tracing his finger over the language he doesn’t understand.

Axel’s fidgeting with something else, locating his notebook, scribbled with English-Swedish translations. Klaus is limp as Axel grabs him softy, both their index fingers tracing the writing.

“I am iron and I forge myself,” he says, tapping at the bracelet.

Klaus blinks at his new gift, the words sinking in. He’s never thought of himself as iron - earthly, impossible to break. He’s always felt aligned to water, sinking deep and paralysed by his circumstances, filling the lungs of those around him until they either drown too or swim to shore. He’s never blamed anyone for leaving him; if anything, he’s never understood those who do stick around, willingly endangering themselves as he inevitably creates a tsunami of chaos. Those who left, and got to land? They’re the lucky ones. 

But - just _maybe_ \- there’s something to it. Maybe he is forged by his own hand; burnt and hammered into the person he is today, indestructible in the worst way.

“Me?” he can’t resist asking despite himself, “I bruise easily,” he half-jokes. He could splinter off at this point but Axel has him in a tight grip, holding him together.

“Bruises heal,” Axel says astutely, in a way that makes Klaus peer at him.

“You’re not that bad at English,” he accuses, “when I tell you to take the trash out, it’s always, “ _trash? What this mean?!”_ ”, his terrible Swedish accent coaxing a grin out of the other man.

“I don’t like that job. I do others, no? I fix your bed. I bring all furniture up when we move in.”

Klaus hums knowingly.

“Thank you for my gift,” he adds, trying to be more polite as he settles in for a relatively peaceful life, “ it's very thoughtful.”

“Thoughtful?”

“Kind.”

“I am kind,” Axel agrees, to Klaus’s amusement, “ _ thoughtful _ .”   


An hour must pass like that, Klaus only realising it when he starts to feel his legs burning from the insistent sun. Axel’s become attached to a watch that he found at some thrift market, staring at it intently as Klaus tries not to be offended he’s clock watching on their date. 

“We must leave in 13 minutes,” Axel informs him, grabbing a fistful of pumpkin seeds and waiting impatiently for Klaus to open his mouth.

“You have to stop shopping with Luther,” Klaus mumbles through his food, cheeks bulging with the offensive amount of food Axel fills it with. His big brother and his blonde housemate have taken to shopping together after Axel complained in hybrid Swenglish about the food Klaus usually buys, Luther happy to adopt him as a wholefoods shopping buddy. He literally cannot imagine what the conversations must go like, Luther puppy-ish and innocent as he suggests new cacao nibs or pumpkin puree to Axel, but whenever he’s pressed his brother for further insights, Luther has been irritatingly boring about it.

As Axel hoists him off their comfy, sun soaked patch of grass, Klaus appreciates how those capable hands never leave his body, one way or another. His arm slips easily around Klaus’s waist, keeping him close. It’s different to Diego’s touches, querying fingers looking for something a little saucier at any given moment, and Five’s disdain for affection in general.

“Hey,” Klaus smiles, band resting softly against his wrist as they meander across blocks, “why are you doing this?”

“This?”

“You know. The competition. Didn’t think you were, uh, into… people like me.”

“Hm,” Axel summarises, thinking over his answer, “true. You are… different. I like…,” he trails off, grabbing his phone and speaking into it with his native tongue, “ah, yes. I like your skin.”

“You like my skin?!” Klaus cackles, “what does that mean?!”

“You are warm. I like it when you are close. You feel soft. I want to - to - be close. Always.”

Klaus scoffs to himself, smiling as they attract the odd little look, not in a particularly offensive manner -- they make quite the couple, striding through the city as if it’s their own personal catwalk.

“You are funny,” Axel adds, “and very strange.”

“I think we both are, big boy,” Klaus winks, frowning as they reach a building not unlike the Academy. Steeped pillars, old brick and the scent of lavender pricks the air, ghosts beginning to fill his eyeline more than usual but he doesn’t have much time to consider it, ushered inside as Axel reads from his notebook religiously, collecting two tickets.

“Where are we?” Klaus hisses, “is this one of those old timey cinemas, huh?”

A sharp, uniformed member of staff leads them into yet another room, her teeth bright white and eyes impossibly large: “have a great afternoon, Sirs!” she sing-songs. All Klaus can see is elderly couples; purple-haired women with their Sunday best on, grey men with ties and polished shoes laughing. He’s beginning to think Axel’s brought him to a convention of kinds but they’re the only people under 50; Klaus has never cared for talking war, or genealogy, whatever it is old people like.

“Ahem,” a younger woman coughs into a microphone, appearing out of nowhere, “if you’d like to take your partner by hand.”

Axel pushes them into the centre of the hall, manoeuvring a confused Klaus with ease.

“Oh my God,” Klaus murmurs, “are we dancing?”

“Of course.”

“Ha!”

He drinks in the surprised, yet curious, looks from the much more traditional looking couples, staring at the giant Scandinavian and the man in a skirt.

“We dance. I court you.”

Now they’re up close in a less intimate setting than they have been previously, Klaus’s tendency to flee when he feels exposed is kicking in, not used to Axel’s earnest way of communicating. Axel holds him so close and tight; Klaus is sure he’ll feel the incessant beating of his heart, flapping like a scared little bird, breath in short bursts as he tries to block the oncoming freight train of trauma.

_ “Not like that,” Reginald snapped, “Number Four, you are entirely ridiculous.” _

_ “Dad?”  _

_ “Do you think this is a joke, Number Four? Number Two, get your hands off him right this moment. I explicitly told you to pair with Number Seven.” _

_ “Yes, but - ” _

_ “Insolent child! How dare you argue with me? You love to play the fool. If you are so insistent on acting like a stupid little child, you will be treated as such. With me. Now.” _

_ “Father -” _

_ “Now. Unless you’d prefer Number Two to take your punishment? _ ”

Axel’s slow and gentle in the way he moves, peering at Klaus as he becomes more undone, the urge to bolt now impossible to ignore.

“This is not good?” he asks softly, disappointment in his eyes as they come to a standstill, Ella Fitzgerald’s soft tones still going strong.

**Author's Note:**

> ngl, i have about 70% of this fic finished (should be 2/3 chapters long) but.. i've hit a lil crossroads, pals. the ol' writing juice has been not officially zapped, but i'm depleted. so like the needy for praise leo moon i am, i'm posting this with the hope that once i post and hopefully have a reader or two, i'll be forced into finishing it! already on 12k words and i don't want to let it collect dust in my google docs, wither and die. so, your comment/kudos means so, so much to me on this, it really will give me a much needed kick up the ass. heh. love <3


End file.
